


All Cats Are Gray in the Dark 1.5: The Real Holt Blues

by CowboyBiBoh



Series: All Cats [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Complete, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Erotica, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), F/M, Flashback, Friends With Benefits, Galaxy Garrison, Keith/Lance - Freeform, M/M, Matt Holt-centric, Matt Holt/Lance - Freeform, Minor Keith/Lance (Voltron), Multi, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Queer Themes, Sex, Shaladin - Freeform, Shatt, Shiro/Matt - Freeform, Vaginal Sex, klance, shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-06-08 23:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboyBiBoh/pseuds/CowboyBiBoh
Summary: The hormones and relationships in the Voltron family have finally settled, but the arrival of long-lost sex legend Matt Holt threatens to throw it all into chaos again...The sequel novella to All Cats Are Gray in the Dark!





	1. Shiro

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> To those of you returning, welcome back! I hope this volume thrills just as much (or more!) as volume 1 did!
> 
> To those of you who are new, I recommend reading volume 1 first! https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171181/chapters/32664387 Without spoiling too much, this is my in-universe, canon-compliant, erotic fic that takes place just after Season 4 episode 1. All Cats 1.5 takes place after episode 3. All the characters have been aged up to 18+, and many are now in semi-established relationships. 
> 
> I plan to update this once a week, on Wednesdays this time, and I'll be updating tags as I go along (so those reading in real time won't get too spoiled). Comments, kudos, and subscriptions always welcome!

* * *

 

Dinner hadn't lasted long after Matt's question, mostly because Pidge had been so embarrassed and exhausted by her brother that she'd excused them both from the table and pulled him bodily into the kitchen, giving him an earful that everyone else could hear most of, too. Her diatribe restored much of Shiro's mood—he hadn't thought anyone could be Matt's keeper, but of course, he hadn't yet met Pidge when he'd known Matt in the Garrison. Where Matt was easygoing and flexible, Pidge was serious and tough. Working in tandem, Shiro was sure they would be unstoppable; but he could see how they'd get on each other's nerves, too.

Frankly, he was happy she'd intervened. After the hard-won peace they’d all achieved over the last week, the wild, hormonal, sex-charged roller coaster ride, the last thing he wanted was Matt Holt coming in and quite literally fucking it all up.

He sighed as they finished up, and when the paladins parted ways he followed Allura into her room, her hand never letting go of his. He knew he should give Matt more credit, and Allura, for that matter; but this wasn't the Garrison, where the stakes had been low. Matt needed to know that the relationships they'd built with each other, platonic and sexual alike, had real bearing on their abilities as a team. He was pretty sure Matt would understand, and pretty sure Allura and Lance wouldn't let it affect them.

But they'd never met someone like Matt—he was one of a kind; a unique being placed on this earth to find and give love to any and all. Moreover, Shiro wasn't sure he wouldn't let it affect himself. After all, he now had a horse in this race, and though his relationship with Allura was ostensibly open, something rankled him about Matt walking in and optioning her. But it was Matt, and Matt wasn't committed to any of his lovers, though he cared for them all.

But Matt had never met someone like Allura.

Distracted, Shiro didn't notice when Allura had turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing the divot between his pecs.

"You're upset."

He laughed and ruffled her hair, to which she pouted up at him. "I'm not. Matt's just...a complication."

"I didn't realize you knew him so well," Allura said, and he kissed her when she closed her eyes, as she asked for reassurance with the tilt of her chin, her raised lips. Satisfied, she slipped from his embrace and turned, shifting her hair so he could undo the ties of her dress. She didn't need the help, but he liked that she still asked, though his fingers were just too big to untie the ribbon with any finesse.

"He was with me on the Kerberos mission," he said, but she shook her head.

"Yes, but you must have been friends before that. You're so informal with him."

"I am?"

"You are," she turned back, the top of her dress falling forward, and took his chin in her hands. Her bright turquoise eyes blazed in the low light, and she grew just a little to kiss him again, on more equal footing.

"Well...yeah, we were friends. Are, still. I hope."

"You hope?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't want to assume—we've both been through a lot."

She kissed him again, as she always did when he touched on the recent past. He knew it was just that she was happy to have him back, mixed with her guilt over his loss, and her sadness over his suffering even before they'd met. But he liked her kisses better when they didn't taste like pity.

"Are you upset that I'm interested?" She ventured, as she made her way to her closet, stepping behind her privacy screen. The low light shadowed her enough that he could see indistinct curves in the shape of his lover, her dress peeled away and something far less substantial selected.

"I'm not upset," he said, a littler sterner than he'd meant. She paused, and he let out a guilty chuckle, busying himself with unzipping his vest. "I...realize how that sounds. But I promise, it's fine. Matt is just..."

"Not like you?" She said, peeking out from around the screen, her hair falling like a flag behind her. He blinked.

"I...yeah, that might be it." She flashed him a smile that made his heart flutter, and dipped back behind her screen. He laid his vest on a chair that had recently become his interim dresser, and undid his belt. "I just wish he'd think about the circumstances around him before he...," he sighed.

"He does come on strong."

"And yet, he's such a friendly guy," Shiro sighed, the memories of Matt's exploits coming back to him in a flood. "It's just, now that we have Voltron to think about..."

“Shiro,” she said, low over the rustle of fabric. “We figured it out once, didn’t we? Have some faith that we can do it again.”

“It’s absolutely not you I’m worried about,” he said, and bit his lips before he sighed again. When did he become so old-fashioned?

When the freedom of the universe rested in the decisions he made, he realized.

“Just talk to him then, as will I,” she said, slipping out from behind her screen, wearing one of his old shirts like a dress. She pulled her hair up into a loose bun, and the hemline followed her arms up and back, exposing the fact that she was not, as usual, wearing any underwear.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“I am,” she grinned, bending over the bed to pull down the covers as he pulled off his shirt in a bigger hurry than he had been, her perfect ass and legs and all that lay between on intentional display. He managed to stay upright as he pulled off his leggings and boxer-briefs, and managed even to make it to the bed before she got entirely in, keeping her in place with his right arm as his left worked her until she was just wet enough. Sex had been on his mind in one way or another since dinner, and her teasing had taken him into overdrive. He positioned himself and she slid him in before he had the chance, thrusting a few times before she could make it to the hilt. He placed his hands on the sides of her ribs, just under the markings that curled down to her lower back, and thrust until her cheeks were flushed; until she slid down, breasts pressed against the mattress, unable to hold herself up as she came around him. He tried to hold back, to let her come again, but she caught his eye with one of hers and it was too much, her fox-grin of satisfaction the extra push he needed. He came into her before even he was really ready, but rode it out, fingers gripping her skin as he released.

He’d never be able to wipe that satisfied grin from her face, but he didn’t particularly want to; not as she got up to clean up, nor when she slid into bed next to him, tucking under his arm and letting her fingers trace his muscles.

He thought she’d fallen asleep, but she laid her hand flat, punctuating whatever had been going through her head.

“What did he offer you?”

“Offer?” Shiro blinked back to the present.

“Matt asked if you’d reconsidered his offer.”

“Ah, that,” Shiro said, a low chuckle in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, and thought back to a few years before, and the pivotal events that transpired in a warm, wet Garrison bath…

 

* * *

 

Matt splashed down next to Shiro in the communal bath, and Shiro turned to see his friend with the satisfied grin of a cat that'd been at the cream.

"That good, huh?"

"Better. With the way those two fight, you'd never expect them to go so hard for each other. Literally." He laid his head back, relaxing into the heat.

"Well, passion is passion."

"You've got that right," Matt said, and stretched his arms up over his head, nasty popping and cracking sounds coming from his joints as he rolled his neck around. It still surprised Shiro that Matt had managed to become the most popular guy at the Garrison in a matter of months. He was good-looking, but in an approachable way; like the guy next door you’d grown up with your whole life, not the hot model that just moved in across the way. He wasn't quite handsome enough to threaten those whose identities rested on their looks, and his easygoing charm and indefatigable optimism made him a sought-after confidant. All that, combined with his innate desire to seek out and fuck anyone in his same species, and Shiro realized the real surprise was that he hadn't yet caught an STD, or moreover, that everyone he slept with somehow still remained friends with him and each other. Hell, Shiro’d heard that a couple got together after the night Matt spent with them both, and from Matt's delighted little hums, he was sure another one was soon to follow.

"How about you, big guy? Put those muscles to use lately?"

Shiro rolled his eyes and sighed. "You know I haven't."

"It's been months, man...were you really that in love with her?"

Shiro ran his hand through his damp hair, pushing his bangs back. He'd have to get it cut again soon, though he felt like he'd just had it done. He watched the condensing steam concentrate into droplets on the gray-tiled wall, sliding into rivulets that returned the water to the bath. If he just watched their path, focused, he could keep his mind clear.

"That's just it...I wasn't, really." Her long black hair flashed in his mind, and he stared harder at the wall, finding another droplet to follow on its journey back. He didn't want to think of how her hair had matched his, how she'd stared up at him with those crystal-blue eyes, how she'd said his name as he thrust into her, how she'd trusted him with secrets he hadn't wanted to keep. He'd cared for her, but she'd wanted everything. And he wanted to go to space.

"You think too hard, Shiro. Just turn off your brain and let your body do the talking."

Matt nudged him with his shoulder, and Shiro realized he was closer than he'd thought. It wouldn't be the first time Matt had come on to him— _that_ was five seconds after they'd met, after Matt learned Shiro would be the student officer in charge of his cohort—but Shiro had shut him down every time, with excuses of propriety, of power dynamics, of ruined friendships, of how it could all go down in flames.

But Matt was persistent, and Shiro was getting tired of finding excuses.

"Say I did."

"Hm?" A hand, knuckles just grazing the meat of Shiro's thigh. He sighed.

"Turn my brain off. What would happen then?"

He met Matt's delighted gaze, though he tried his best to keep it under wraps with his trademark sly smirk. He propped his elbow on the rim of the bath, and let his left hand trace circles on Shiro's knee underwater.

"Well, generally, the first thing that happens is that you'll get hard, at least a little. Like I am, see?" He pointed down with his right hand, and Shiro could barely see Matt's cock in the near-opaque water. "Wait, that's actually tough to see. Is it because I don't have my glasses on?"

"Nope, it's just hard to see," Shiro said, and Matt grinned, snatching Shiro's hand and pulling it into his lap. The back of his hand brushed Matt's length, somehow hard in the heat and despite what had sounded like an extended session already. He instinctively jerked back at being grabbed, but Matt held on for a moment before letting him go.

"Gotta turn your brain off, remember?"

Shiro sighed and held out his hand for Matt, but he shook his head, and returned to tracing circles on Shiro's knee, idly spiraling larger and larger.

"Then what?”

"Impatient, aren't we?"

"Holt."

"Testy, too." Matt shrugged at Shiro's frown. "I know you're making a face, but lucky for me, I can't see what it is. Just settle in. Take some deep breaths, like that meditation stuff you introduced me to."

Shiro sighed and did what he was told, closing his eyes and settling in. He took a deep breath in through his nose, the humidity coating his lungs and warming him from the inside, too, before letting it out through his lips. His focus was trained on Matt's fingertips as they wound their way up to his hip, but never closer between his thighs. He was half-erect, the water too warm, his conscience railing at him to stop even as he desperately wanted Matt's hand around him, to start.

Lips on his shoulder made him jump, and he stared at Matt, who was cradling the teeth that Shiro had knocked when he jolted. "Sorry, I just...wasn't expecting...," Shiro sighed and put his left hand on Matt's, arresting the motion. "This isn't...can't be..."

"Shiro, shut up and turn off your brain."

Shiro had never heard that stern tone from Matt, nowhere near. But it was clear that there was steel in all the malleable goo that was Matt Holt, a grit that would turn him into an excellent soldier. A frame even within that indefinite flexibility.

So, he took an order from a subordinate officer, and did what he was told.

And when Matt leaned over and kissed him, he let his body do the talking, and kissed back.

Matt's lips were nothing like hers had been, like the kisses he'd had in the past. They weren't fierce or pressing; weren't timid and shy, fluttering with the promise of new-discovered feelings. They met Shiro where he was, friendly, inquisitive. He got the feeling that to Matt, kisses were a greeting, the small talk without the air. 

He was so distracted by Matt's distinct kiss that when his hand settled around Shiro's cock, it elicited a groan of deep satisfaction. Shiro blinked his eyes open—had he ever been vocal during sex?—and was surprised to find Matt's cheeks tinged pink. Shiro worried for a moment about the heat of the bath, tried to do some mental math on how long they'd been in there, but Matt's fingers probing the dimensions of his now firmly-hard member made Shiro realize the real reason for the color.

"It can't be that different," Shiro said, and Matt laughed.

"You don't even realize, do you?" He kissed Shiro's throat as he closed his hand around him again. The grip was just right, firm, with just enough room to move and not pinch. A man would know what felt good, Shiro thought, and if Matt Holt didn't know what would please another man, no one would. He gave Shiro one long, solid tug as he kissed down his neck, to the thick trapezoid, scooting closer so his shin grazed Shiro's left hand. Shiro slid his hand up Matt's ankle and calf, and Matt laughed a growl into Shiro as he kissed, giddy. "You could have your pick of anyone here; all at once, if you liked. And to find you're perfect here, too," he tugged again, and Shiro sighed his pleasure, "well, it's just icing on the cake."

Shiro closed his eyes again, unsure of what to do with that information. He wasn't sure of what he wanted, really, aside from the stars. He was so close to achieving his dream, and to have been burned so badly by someone he'd trusted to believe in him...it had stung. What if the next person wanted to keep him on Earth, too? Besides, no one had caught his eye in particular. No one held a candle to her, and though she'd ended up a wildfire, she was the only one who had made him feel anything in his gut, that had heated his loins with that aching desire.

"One at a time is...plenty...for me," Shiro said, and Matt shrugged, rippling his fingers over Shiro's tip.

"Suit yourself, but I still think you're missing out."

"Noted,” Shiro said, and laughed, letting it rumble through him as the heat and his nerves lit his insides. Their banter was the same as any other meeting they had, whether in the command room running simulations, or shooting the shit in the commissary after hours. Shiro had never thought he'd become friends with one of his recruits, never wanted to blur that line in their rank, but it was impossible to not be friends with Matt. And when the suits were on, Matt was all deference and order, with sarcastic quips thrown in for good measure.

But with the suits off...

Matt was stroking with some earnestness, a loose rhythm designed to relax, ease. His long fingers knew exactly what they were about, and though somewhere Shiro could feel a low pressure building, he still had control of his senses.

And it was time to start giving back.

He pushed his left hand forward through the water until the backs of his fingers collided with Matt's cock, and he took it in his hand. It was like Matt, decently long and thinner than Shiro's, with soft foreskin that he pushed back as he clumsily settled around him. Shiro was right-handed, and though he'd tried to train more with his left when he entered the garrison, he didn't have the finesse. Besides, unlike Matt, it was the first time he'd held a cock beside his own, and it turned out it was hard to adjust for pressure when he couldn't feel the result.

Matt, sucking on Shiro's shoulder, didn't seem to mind in the least.

They kept at it for a while, stroking each other until they fell into a rhythm. Shiro felt Matt twitch and engorge in his hand as he continued, though he was sure his ministrations didn’t hold a candle to what Matt was doing to him. How could he get so good with just his fingers?

But it wasn’t that, was it? He’d set the mood, allowed Shiro to get comfortable every step of the way. Even the way their shoulders touched, Matt’s breath on his throat, low moans in his ears—everything was designed for atmosphere. Even now, Matt was telling a story, as he captured Shiro’s lips and pivoted so he straddled Shiro’s leg.

“Sit up on the edge,” he said, moving back so Shiro had just enough room to slide out and up, if he was careful.

“Holt.”

“I swear, if you question me again…”

“All right, all right,” Shiro said, with a gruff laugh. He pushed himself off the seat and slowly, so as not to knock anything important, levered himself out of the water and onto the floor. Matt knelt where Shiro had just sat, placing his hands on Shiro’s knees and meeting his eyes, though Shiro’s face was probably a blur to Matt.

“I say that, but you know you can stop me at any time, okay?”

Shiro ruffled Matt’s hair with one hand. “I know.”

“Let me know if—”

“I will. Now,” and Shiro gestured with his hand, flapping toward the area between his legs, “get back to whatever you were about to do.”

Matt grinned, and took his sweet time in leaning forward, running his knuckles down Shiro’s shaft before placing his lips on the tip.

This was newer territory. Shiro hadn’t had a partner who had been interested in blowjobs, and he’d never felt it was his place to ask. After all, sex was deeply personal, and if someone didn’t find it to their taste, that was their business. But on the rare occasion it did happen, he found that he loved the feeling of another’s lips around him, tongue wetting and lapping, finding the sensitive spots he didn’t even know he had. He’d loved every moment of it, though he’d never let it go as long as he liked. He didn’t want to make his partner suffer.

Matt, on the other hand, approached it with an enthusiasm that made Shiro’s back arch. He grabbed Matt’s long, floppy hair with his right hand, trying to control for how sensitive he was, to manage the onslaught of Matt’s tongue, hands. Matt opened his eyes and met Shiro’s as he took Shiro deep into his mouth, which almost made Shiro lose control. How had he never known what this could feel like? None of his past experiences could hold a candle to this, and he wasn’t sure any others ever would.

He loosened his grip on Matt’s hair, stroking it as Matt worked his magic, bobbing up and down, sucking and licking and building the pressure within. Matt’s left hand moved to cradle Shiro’s balls, rolling and pulling them just enough to shock, but not to hurt. The counter-tension struck a chord in Shiro’s hips, and he was so enraptured by sensation that he didn’t notice Matt’s fingers slip down below until he took his mouth away and wet them.

“Can I fuck you, Shiro?”

Shiro grimaced at Matt’s misuse of ‘can’ instead of ‘may,’ but nodded. Admittedly he wasn’t sure about the whole thing—he’d already traversed quite a lot of new ground in the last twenty minutes—but every step had introduced him to pleasure he’d never dreamed possible, had opened doors for him in a way the usual rulebook-bound Shiro would never have dared. And the least Shiro could do would be to let Matt get off inside him, if that’s what he wanted. He hoped it would be good for him, too.

“Wait right here,” Matt said, and hopped out of the bath, his own erection sizable. He trotted out to the locker room, leaving Shiro alone with his thoughts and his throbbing desire. The cooling air on his body made him shiver, though his legs were still in the bath to the knee. He took his cock in his hand and stroked it once, twice, though the doubts were starting to crowd the corner of his mind.

_What am I doing here?_

“You’d better not be thinking, Shiro,” Matt said, sliding the door shut behind him. He loped back and splashed into the bath, a bottle in his hand. He flipped open the cap and squeezed a clear gel into his palm, then set the bottle to the side as he again bent over Shiro, taking him in his mouth. Shiro’s hips jerked at the return of sensation on his cock, his eyes closing in deep passion.

Moments later, a slick finger played around his ass, the goop an odd sensation.

And then, the finger made its way inside.

Shiro jerked a little at the unfamiliar feeling, but Matt redoubled his efforts with his mouth, and Shiro relaxed into the discomfort. The finger slid in and out in slow thrusts, circling as it did, widening him. Every so often on a thrust it would brush a spot that sent electric shocks jumping through his loins, but it was brief, disappearing as the finger did. He’d thought it would hurt, but it was just an odd sensation; the novelty keeping it erotic.

He took a deep breath to relax, a calming technique he’d learned at the Garrison’s leadership training. Focusing on his breath let him take a moment for himself, separating the sensations happening across his body and letting him reclaim focus, if not coherent thought. He watched as Matt took a slow, appreciative look at his body, slipping another finger inside him as he did. Resistance, just for a second; an exhale, and Shiro relaxed. He focused on Matt’s lips suctioned around him, his tongue coating Shiro’s shaft, as another finger found his way inside, a fullness that was totally foreign.

But, as he was finding, not unwelcome.

When Matt stepped forward, kissing his way up Shiro’s chest and chin, it was clear what was coming next. Shiro tensed for a moment and Matt stopped, meeting Shiro’s eyes as his free hand rested on Shiro’s hip. Shiro sighed out and focused on his breathing again, quelling the nerves that had bubbled to the surface. Matt, too, sighed, and continued his path to Shiro’s lips. Only when he had Shiro’s full attention did he slide his tip next to his fingers, replacing one with the other in one fluid motion.

Matt’s cock was bigger than his fingers had been, more solid, with less autonomy. It carried a weight that felt real, heavy, and the doubts started rushing in, even as Matt kissed him with some urgency. Shiro focused on his breath as he could, though it hitched as Matt took him in his hand, resuming his rhythm with a lubricated hand.

A hand that had just been exploring his ass.

He jerked, and Matt slowed, but continued his ministrations. He met Shiro’s forehead with his own, withdrawing his hips just enough to push them forward again, deeper. And again.

“Stop gritting your teeth,” Matt whispered, and Shiro released the clenched muscles of his jaw, a subconscious reaction to his unpleasant realization. He took one breath, another. In, out. In time with Matt, in-out. The act of really, truly, being fucked.

Matt closed his fist just under Shiro’s tip, giving it a few rapid tugs that nearly made Shiro come. His hips twitched with the sharp sensations, clamping Matt in deep, and as he thrust again he brushed against the spot that had made Shiro see stars.

Now, he saw galaxies.

He came into Matt’s hand, hard, shaking around Matt’s cock as he thrust now in earnest. His forehead pressed against Matt’s neck as he was fucked, relentless and tender, the orgasm drawn out longer than any he’d ever had before. It was almost painful, raw, ripped from him by a singular node, by a man he trusted and just plain liked.

And he was undone.

Matt continued his work, holding Shiro’s cock loose as he thrust, knowing how sensitive it would be. Shiro, as though from far away, relaxed into the invasion and the welcoming, a loss of control even as he was the seat of power. Matt was inside him, moving with precision and abandon, as Shiro once had with her. But now he understood what an enormous undertaking it was, this receipt; the emotionality of holding another within.

The thrill he felt as Matt came, burying himself to the hilt as he murmured soft oh’s into Shiro’s chest. Shiro rested his cheek on Matt’s damp hair, the heat from their bodies and the water making them both sticky-slick. He breathed in, letting his body expand and fill, then exhaled; bringing them both back to their flesh, their senses.

It was Matt who moved first, pulling back just enough to slide out of Shiro, the tip of his condom heavy with fluid. When had he even put it on? Shiro scooted back and started to get up, but Matt placed a hand on his leg.

“Are you okay?”

“I…,” Shiro took another breath to collect himself, now trying to get used to the absence, the emptiness within. His arms tingled, as did his ass, now asleep from being pressed to the tile. “Yeah, I am. Better than okay, I think.”

Matt lifted his arm and Shiro stood on shaky legs, with Matt not far behind, a surprisingly tasteful smile on his lips. “Good. I…I’m really glad, Shiro.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you were nervous.”

“Of _course_ I was nervous!” Matt said, busying himself with sliding the condom off. He pinched the top to keep it from leaking, and looked around for the trash. Shiro pointed to the corner near the door and Matt stalked over to deposit it.

“Really?”

Matt nodded as he loped back, collecting his bottle of what Shiro was now pretty sure was lube. “I’m always nervous with someone new, but this…I mean, it’s _you_. You’ve taught me everything I know. What if I fucked it all up?”

“Langu—” Shiro started, but caught himself. Matt was caught between stifling a laugh and his emotional reveal, and so sort of coughed a chuckle. Shiro sighed and took a step forward, clasping Matt on the shoulder.

“You did a fine job,” he said, though his brow furrowed as he thought through Matt’s words. “How do you fuck like that if you’re always nervous?”

“Language,” Matt said, through a warm whisper. He took a deep breath and straightened, new inches appearing under Shiro’s nose. They weren’t too far apart in height, or wouldn’t be if Matt regularly bothered to stand up straight. “Practice, I guess. Though it’s not hard to figure out when my partner is attractive and interested.”

At that, he elbowed Shiro. “C’mon, let’s shower off and get outta here. We’ve probably been in longer than is healthy.”

“We definitely have,” Shiro said, feeling totally unequipped to respond to the compliment as they made their way to the showers. Somehow he didn’t think Matt needed anything in return, but Shiro still felt as though he had taken more than his share. “I’m surprised no one else came in.”

At that, Matt grinned, turning on the water. “I _might_ have told the XO that this bath was out of order. And that I’d look into it.”

“Matt,” Shiro said, and at the sound of his given name, Matt froze, eyes wide. Shiro nodded and Matt relaxed, eyes sparkling as he approached in the water. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Matt said, dipping and elbowing Shiro playfully in the water. “Next time, you can fuck me, if you like.”

“Next time?”

Matt elbowed him again, with no force behind the blow; a dramatic nudge. “Whenever you need to turn off your brain. I’m here for you, Shiro.”

 

* * *

 

“There were a few times we came close, but…well, life took us in different directions. And even on the Kerberos mission, with Commander Holt along…well, even Holt kept it together around his father.”

“So…Pidge’s brother taught you everything you know, then.”

“Not everything,” he said, kissing Allura’s temple. “He opened my eyes to a lot of possibility. I certainly wouldn’t be who I am had we not been involved.”

She placed her hand on his chest, warm against his skin. She was always so warm. “Then why not take him up on his offer now?”

Shiro sighed back into the pillows, covering her hand with his own. Her slender fingers interlaced with his. “I’ll always appreciate what he did for me, and I know he’d like it, but…I’m not attracted to him in the same way I am to you or…”

He clamped his mouth shut around the next word, but Allura was too keen.

“Or?”

“…Keith,” he admitted, gritting his teeth. He hadn’t told Allura about Keith, not out of any desire to hide it, necessarily, but he hadn’t thought it was important to tell her about something that was effectively over.

She slid her fingers through and around his, silent for a moment before turning her face up to him for a kiss. When they separated, she pressed herself against him, curved into his side in a way that felt unfairly perfect.

“I’ve known for a while,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You really should wash your sheets between lovers. Alteans have a very good sense of smell.”

“I…,” but before he could say anything else, her hand found its way between his legs, to the erection that had grown as he’d remembered his formative meeting with Matt from long ago. “I think Alteans might have a bit of a jealous streak, too.”

“No, not Alteans,” she said, propping herself up just enough to kiss him again. “I just want to make sure your sheets smell like me.”

“Anything for you, Princess.”


	2. Hunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important conversation over a taste from home.

* * *

 

The last person Hunk expected to see crouched over the kitchen counter was the new guy.

His girlfriend’s brother.

Her family.

“I heard you were the man to see about some grub,” Matt said, a grin on his gaunt cheeks. Hunk nodded, and grabbed his apron from the hook he’d installed in his makeshift kitchen renovation. When he wasn’t with Pidge in the lab or in bed, he was here, his second home, his quiet retreat. Sometimes he thought he should be working harder to make improvements to the Castle or the Lions, like Pidge, but she was singleminded in her pursuit of improvement and innovation, and he…well, he appreciated peace.

And in the kitchen, even as alien and foreign as this one was, is where he found it. He’d made it into his own, with Allura’s blessing. She’d admitted that she and Coran were both agnostic chefs, and though Coran had been known to experiment, Allura’s schedule made her default to the Castle-produced food goo more often than Hunk thought was healthy. It occurred to him that, unless the Alteans really had no tastebuds, the food goo was supposed to be an emergency supply, space rations that would get the cosmonauts through the deep reaches of the stars until they could resupply with fresh ingredients.

So, he’d made it his mission to expand the culinary options, experimenting with ingredients he couldn’t read (until Pidge had invented the scanning translator) and didn’t know, going only on taste and educated guesses. He’d had many failures and some limited success, until they’d finally started hitting the trading outposts. He personally thought it was Shiro’s gift to him, though he knew Pidge had needed some lady supplies, too. Shiro had been very appreciative to have coffee back on the menu.

And now that they’d made Olkarion their semi-permanent home base, Hunk could get fresh supplies more often. The Olkari’s work with vegetation had given him a wealth of vegetables and fruits, plus roots, tubers, and growths of a type he couldn’t classify but were still usually delicious. He’d gone down once or twice into town to sample the local cuisine, and the chefs were usually more than happy to share some tips with a paladin of Voltron. So he learned, and cooked; repeating the cycle until he was reliably able to cook real, healthy food for the crew. It soothed him, to be working through the rote process of food preparation, to have a finished product at the end. A completable cycle.

It was his way of giving back to his teammates, too. They all worked too hard, in their own ways; whether it was Pidge’s relentless tinkering, Allura and Shiro’s tireless leadership and strategizing, Coran’s mechanic and diplomatic work, Keith’s aggressive training, or Lance, who ran himself into the ground emotionally trying to keep them all together, whole, happy. Even if he wasn’t.

Hunk and Lance had bonded over the deep homesickness for Earth. He’d listen to Lance tell stories about his amazing, large family, who were full of passion and love and overbearing advice. And Hunk…what he missed most was the safety, the normalcy. He’d joined the Garrison because it was important to his family, but he’d have been just as happy anywhere else. He’d thought that maybe he’d serve in the research arm, or become an instructor; never that he’d see active combat. Never that he’d become one of the strongest warriors in the galaxy, alongside his best friends, fighting to keep them all alive. Fighting to free the universe.

The least he could do, for everyone, was to feed them well.

Matt was no exception, and from a glance he certainly needed it; the deep bags under his eyes and just-healing scar on his chin hallmarks of his time as prisoner and rebel. He was whipcord muscle, the kind built from necessity, not careful craft. His body had learned to parcel out what nutrients he had, and Hunk would bet his left foot that whatever rations Matt had survived on paled even to food goo. The boy needed a bite.

“That I am,” he said, giving Matt another once-over. “Got anything you want? I can’t promise I can make it, but I’ll certainly give it a shot.”

“I…wow, I hadn’t even considered.” Matt chewed his lower lip, and rested his chin on his propped, folded hands. “Do you…,” he started, unsure, “do you have mac ‘n’ cheese?”

“Like, the Kraft kind?”

“Any kind.”

“I…hm,” Hunk said, thinking over his ingredients, the taste profiles. “I can give it my best shot.”

“Don’t worry about it, if it’s too much trouble,” Matt said, shrugging. “Honestly, I’m just happy with already-hydrated food.”

“I think I can get pretty close. It might not look the same, but… well, don’t give up on me just yet.”

He busied himself with pots and pans, grabbing the ingredients that came to mind as close in consistency and taste. Matt settled in, watching Hunk work, not moving a muscle. Hunk was sure Matt had questions: about Voltron, the paladins, their relationships. Pidge. His relationship with Pidge. Hunk remembered the day they’d first come to the Castle, hell, the first few months, where everything seemed overwhelming, and they’d gotten by on sheer endorphins and pluck. But Matt had already adjusted to some segment of space, and though the Voltron situation might be new, it wasn’t the same mystery it had been to the paladins. It was just another variable, an unexplored ecosystem within the greater strangeness of their expanded understanding of the universe.

Hunk would be happy to answer Matt’s questions, to tell him about the Castle, their little family, but he would wait until Matt was ready. Maybe he just needed time, or food. Or companionship, but privately, Hunk hoped it wasn’t that last one; after all, people could help each other, but healing came from within. And sometimes, others made it that much harder to heal.

He was so busy with julienning and blanching some of the starchier roots to use as a “pasta” base that he almost missed the quiet words.

“Thank you.”

“I…me? For what?”

Hunk paused to see the small smile behind Matt’s hands, under his warm, intelligent eyes. He had long, thick lashes, so similar to the Pidge he was used to, though he knew it was thanks to Matt that she’d blended in so easily as a boy at the Garrison. After all, Matt’s frame had some feminine qualities; his slender shoulders, sharp chin.

And though he was so clearly his own person, he could tell the family expressions and mannerisms he shared with Pidge. The quirky, dry humor; how they both ruffled their hair when nervous. And that smile, which was nothing of the sort, but a mask for a pain neither would like to remember. They’d been torn apart, their family still separated. At least the people Hunk loved were still safe on Earth, facing violence and oppression only from others of their own kind. It was a more comforting thought than maybe it should have been, but then, after the last year, humans seemed an awfully manageable threat.

“I just thought you probably don’t get appreciated a lot for what you do.”

“What I…do?” Hunk felt his face starting to warm, and busied himself making the cheese substitute as the pasta started to cook.

“You keep them all level,” Matt said, after a long pause, choosing his words as though dusting them off from a seldom-used cabinet. “Pidge, of course, but…well, I guess I’m trying to say that the offer of a home-cooked meal is the nicest thing that’s been done for me in a long time.”

“You’re welcome?” Hunk said, unsure of what to make of the compliment. “I mean, I just like to cook. I don’t think it’s that big a deal. Besides, left to their own devices, everyone would just eat the food goo, and I get that it’s got a ton of vitamins, but it tastes terrible, and it just isn’t filling, you know? And cooking is so easy, but none of them ever put in the time of trying to learn, though I’ve offered to teach them. Well, Lance tried the one time, but it was a disaster. And Shiro was too, funnily enough. But—”

“Hunk.”

“I, sorry, was I babbling?”

“Your pot’s boiling over.”

“Oh! Oh man, oh, I’m sorry.”

And, Matt laughed.

It was sweet, higher than Hunk might have imagined. Tentative, like he was trying to keep it together, but all the more charming for it.

And it swept away the age of the last year.

He could see who Matt had been at the Garrison, a precocious young man—which, admittedly, felt weird to say about someone older, but somehow Matt’s energy felt young without being immature, a vigor that spoke of enthusiasm and passion and a lust for fun. That Matt was still there, though he’d been tempered.

Hunk again busied himself, but found Matt’s eyes on him when he glanced back.

“I bet you’re good for her.”

“Who, Pidge? I try to be.”

“Who made the first move?”

Hunk blushed. “It’s, um…she did.”

“Sounds like it’s a good story.”

“It is,” Hunk acknowledged, and set the purple fruit mash he’d made onto the stove to reduce. “I’d tell you, but…well, I’ll let her. It’s sort of…”

“Look, I get it. Nothing can shock me, but it’s my sister.” Matt’s brow furrowed. “Actually, there are a few things that might shock me, about her. She and I aren’t cut from the same cloth, not in that regard.”

“No offense, but that seems pretty clear.”

“None taken,” Matt said, leaning back and opening his hands. “I’m glad she found someone, though. I…,” and he got quiet again, folding his hands on the counter and crossing his legs, “I felt terrible, leaving her. And then, when we…”

“She never stopped looking, you know.” Hunk stopped what he was doing to meet Matt’s eyes. “She even almost left Voltron, at the beginning, to find you. She was furious with Shiro when she’d learned he’d hurt you.”

“He saved—”

“She knows. She took incredible risks to get any information she could about you. And now…” Hunk stirred the pot, tasting a shred of tuber to see if it was close. He was glad he did—he almost overcooked it. He removed the bubbling mixture from the heat and strained it, the steam coating his face in a searing warmth. “I’m glad you’re okay, and with us. For your sake, and hers.”

“Now all that’s left is to find Dad.”

“Right. And it’ll be easier with the two of you together.”

Silence, a moment; then Matt shot up and threw up his arms in a wide stretch. “Enough serious stuff. I wanted to ask you about more than just the food.”

“I thought that might be the case,” Hunk said, finding the hand-blender Pidge had made him. The thing was an ugly mess of parts, but he said he didn’t mind. She’d promised to make him a nicer one later. It had been later, but she had more important things to work on. She’d come around to it, in time, or she wouldn’t. It worked, and that’s what mattered.

“I want to know more about the Princess, and Lance.” Hunk must have frozen, because Matt put his hands up apologetically. “Relax, I don’t mean secrets or anything. I just wanted to know what their relationship was. Is.”

Hunk studied Matt for a moment, but found the same inquisitive gaze trained on him.

“They did raise their hands,” Matt said, at last, and Hunk shrugged.

“Well, you should probably go to them about it,” he said at last, running the blender while he collected his thoughts. When he switched it off, he spoke before Matt could counter. “I don’t want to mislead you on the specifics, is all. But they had something, for a while. Might still. With each other, and with…others.”

“Other paladins? But that just leaves you, Pidge, and…oh, Shiro. Of course.”

“Well, there’s Coran, but I don’t think… Certainly not Allura, anyway.”

“The good-looking older fellow with the mustache, right? Interesting.” Matt asked nothing more, but propped his chin back on his hands and watched Hunk slide the bubbly, frothing lavender mixture into the pot with the strained vegetables. Hunk couldn’t help but glance up from time to time, but the other man seemed lost in thought.

He stirred again, stalling, but even he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself for long. “Look, I don’t mean to go butting into, lemme tell you, what is _very_ not my business, but…a lot has happened in the past couple weeks between a lot of people around here, y’know? And Voltron…it’s not like a spaceship, or the sim. We all need to be on the same page with each other, and trust each other.”

“And you think I’ll fuck it up?” Matt asked, eyes shadowed.

“No, no, no, not that. It’s just…well, yeah, maybe. It’s probably fine, but, just…be honest with everyone, okay? And careful?”

“I always am,” Matt said, but didn’t reward Hunk’s nervous frown with a laugh. Instead, he turned his focus down to the food. “Is that ready yet? I’m starving.”

“This? Oh, oh yeah. Lemme get a plate.” Hunk brought up two plates, though he really would have preferred a bowl; but if he brought up bowls instead of plates it would be weird, so plates it was. He found some clean forks and old rags they used as napkins, to save on waste aboard the ship. It was a poor setting, but Matt didn’t seem to care, his eyes trained on the steaming plates in front of Hunk.

“Well, bon appetit,” Hunk said, handing one over the counter. Matt barely blew on the mixture before stuffing it into his face. Hunk, wary of the citrus aroma wafting from below, took a slower taste, cooling it before eating.

They both stopped at the same time.

“This…is nothing like mac ‘n’ cheese, huh,” Hunk said, and Matt choked down a swallow before answering with a slow, emphatic nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy gets a voice!! I really came to regret not giving him a voice in All Cats, so I'm glad he gets his time to shine now. He's such a good one. What a goof.
> 
> Tune in next week!


	3. Allura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a princess has a realization.

* * *

 

When Allura finally made it to Matt’s door a few days later, it was with no small amount of curiosity, mixed with a healthy dose of trepidation. She’d felt Shiro’s hesitation, even though he’d told her about his and Matt’s single-storied past; she’d seen it in Hunk’s worried glances, though she hoped her sex life wasn’t the only thing that weighed on his anxiety-ridden mind. But she’d established that she was her own woman, that there were not and could not be boundaries on whom she pursued. So she was here.

Checking in on her guest.

At least, to start.

She rapped her knuckles on the metallic doorframe, and hurried footsteps heralded his approach. She had time only to square her shoulders and clear her expression before the door opened to Matt, looking disheveled in his well-worn rebel gear, though his hair and face were perfectly clean.

And his slow smile, the way he stood a little more at attention, like Shiro did when the pressure was on. His hand, coming to rest at his hip.

He spoke her language, all right.

“Princess,” he started, affecting a little bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was just coming by to see how you were settling in,” she said, matter-of-fact. She clasped her hands in front of her, the diplomatic resting pose she’d adopted when she was first taught. Active, but neutral. It stopped her fingers from fidgeting, and kept her from more dismissive body language, like crossed arms and hunched shoulders.

“Oh, I’m…just fine. Great, actually. The Castle is incredible,” he said, resting his right shoulder against the door. She’d put him in one of the guest rooms, far from the paladins—because it was what was available, and definitely not because it would be far enough that no one would hear what went on within.

“I’m so glad you like it — I know Pidge gave you the grand tour, but I’m happy to show you anything you like, when I have a moment.”

“Sounds to me like most of your moments are spoken for,” Matt said, and she felt her cheeks flush behind her coy smile. How she’d missed the back-and-forth, the repartee with a practiced partner. A little push, a little pull. A little give, a little take. Learning each other with words before feeling each other with hands, lips, and other, more sensitive parts.

“Many are, to be sure, but I want to provide the best example of Altean hospitality I can to our guests,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “especially those who are fighting for our cause.”

“Guest? Am I not here to stay?” He caught her off guard; he meant to, by the shadowed calculation in his deep brown eyes. Those long lashes softened the gaze; he’d meant it as play, but even she could see the real question within. She shook her head.

“We would love to have you as a permanent part of the Voltron team. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like—I know Pidge would be thrilled.”

“And you?”

“I suppose…,” she started, shifting her weight to one leg, watching Matt’s gaze slip to her hip, then back to her as she continued, “that’s what I’m here to find out.”

His grin stunned her for a second; how, for a moment, his face was Pidge’s. The Holts shared the same smile, brilliant when they were thrilled, genuine in their passion. On Pidge it was sweet, endearing. On Matt, it was dazzling.

“Come on in, then,” he said, stepping out of the door and gesturing her in with a grand wave of his arm.

“Thank you,” she said, shivering as she entered. Matt occupied a weird space in their merry crew; an outsider, but not quite; a newcomer with a history that some of their number knew, shared; an ally, but not one with whom she would need to link minds.

Well, yet. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, unless it was a voluntary abdication, like Keith, and not a disappearance, like Shiro.

Her heart stopped cold. That was a thought she couldn’t bear. If it happened again, whatever had happened…

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I…no, I’m quite all right. Thank you.”

Matt shrugged, and went to pour himself a glass of water. He turned just his face as he ran the faucet, his eye just visible through his long bangs. “I hope you don’t mind. I find it easier to relax when I have something in my hands.”

Allura stopped surveying his room—bare, save for the laptop and notebooks she was sure Pidge had given him—and turned back to him. “Not at all… are you unsettled?”

He laughed, clear, low. It was friendly, vulnerable, and it showed in the rest of him, too; how his shoulders slackened, his gait widened as he walked back toward her, cup in hand. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me, but I’m sure no one’s told you that I’m nervous when I first get to know someone.”

“That’s definitely not what I heard,” she said, thinking back to the story Shiro had told her, though… “well, I guess I didn’t hear about when you first meet someone.”

“I can be a little shy,” he said, and looked to the bed. “Would you like to sit?”

She did, and he followed. There was space between their shoulders, and it seemed more intimate for it, the tension born from possibility, future promise.

“If you’re so shy, then how do you…manage to…”

“Get from there to sex?” He settled the cup between his legs, holding it from the top with his fingers, only hard enough that it wouldn’t fall. “It happens pretty naturally, to be honest. I was sort of joking, when I asked the other day. I mean, don’t get me wrong, more the better for me that you guys raised your hands, but…it threw me off.” His low chuckle again held a vulnerability, a little vibration that gave away his nerves. “It’s just not like me to be straightforward like that, but…well, I guess I’m not who I used to be, since all of this happened.”

That feeling, she understood to her marrow. Ever since she woke up in Lance’s arms, 10,000 years in a future that was still impossibly similar to the past, and yet an eon away. “I don’t think any of us are.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, and paused, looking into a long distance before taking a deep drink. “It’s been just me for a while, so I guess sometimes I get a little…”

“Lonely?” She said, putting her hand next to his thigh.

He turned to her, eyes studying her again. It was the scrutiny of a scientist, piercing yet gentle, probing for something perhaps he did not yet know he’d find.

“I was going to say ‘maudlin,’ but lonely works.”

She blushed, and turned away, putting her hand back in her lap. “Sorry, I don’t mean to…come on so strong. I’ve been told humans aren’t as forward as Alteans, so I’ve been trying to tone it down, but…”

“You thought I was always ready?” Matt leaned away, and Allura’s heart sank, sure she’d offended him. But it was just to set down his glass, far enough away that it wouldn’t be accidentally knocked over.

“I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to not try and get to know you, first.”

“No, Allura, it’s…,” and they both paused, realizing it was the first time he’d addressed her by only her given name. He blushed, sheepish; it made her want to lean in, to kiss the embarrassment away. But she couldn’t, not yet. Couldn’t rush him, this man just finding his sea legs after his world had again turned upside down.

He took her hand, folding his hand over it where it lay on her lap.

“It’s refreshing, to be wanted so earnestly.”

And, leaning in, he kissed her, achingly slow and dizzyingly sweet. He knew what he was doing, his technique perfect, searching out her song in her lips as they connected and reconnected. His skill made Shiro look like an amateur, and he the best lover she’d ever had. Lance… well, just wait until Lance took his turn. After all, he could learn quite a bit from someone like this. What a lover he’d be, after Matt Holt was through with him.

Matt snaked his hand out of hers and ran it up her arm, making her shiver through the thin fabric of her uniform. She thought about wearing her dress, but it seemed too formal; her loungewear too intimate; her armor, too impractical. This suit could be easily taken off, though she’d wondered if he’d be put off by the bio-zipper. It had given Shiro pause, the first time he’d seen the gooey tines pull apart under the pressure of his finger.

_Only for a moment, though,_ she remembered. She didn’t think they’d managed to get the whole thing off, that time.

But Matt’s hand was at the nape of her neck, his fingers slipping up into her hair, knocking the tight bun loose as he curled each one in, the tender pull eliciting a gasp. He shifted closer on the bed, his left hand firm on her ribs, keeping her upright even as she grasped his collar, his cloak, whatever rough material she could find to pull him in. He leaned and she followed him down, side by side on the coverlet. He slid his hand to her hip, and she brought her leg up, hooking it over his, but his hand went no further. Instead, he continued to work his right hand through her hair, freeing it, letting it fall under them as he continued to kiss her.

And as the moments ticked by, breaths lost in each other’s lips and fingers roaming slowly across their clothes but never under, Allura started to lose her conviction. Matt’s kisses were incredible, his hands firm, finding the sensitive spots on her neck, her hips…but they weren’t igniting anything inside her. She wished he were a little more like Lance, whose dogged pursuit and earnest bravado had gotten them through the awkward stages with little fuss. Or like Shiro, who had understood from the moment they’d really locked eyes. Even Keith had been more forward, easily confident.

But she’d known them, she realized. Matt was a stranger…a good-looking, sweet stranger, with whom she had no connection, yet.

_Quizznak_.

She broke the kiss.

And looked across the narrow distance, to his rueful smile.

“This isn’t working,” he acknowledged, and she nodded, cheek pressed against the hand that was still in her hair.

“I’m so sorry, Matt. I thought…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, slipping out of her embrace and kissing her on the forehead.

“Maybe once we get to know each other,” she said, finding his hands with hers. They were warm, but not sweaty, and impossibly soft. 

“I would like to get to know you, Allura,” he said, her given name again sparking that feeling of intimacy, privacy. It was something Shiro used only in the bedroom, when they were rutting between the sheets, as she fell asleep in his arms. “But it seems like…maybe you already have something else.” He propped himself up, considering her for a long while. Again, she felt vulnerable, studied; not in a malicious way, but examined as a whole. It was a one-sided connection, something she couldn’t quite grasp. He was trying to find a way into her, but he seemed like an impenetrable wall.

“Shiro knows that I want other companionship, on occasion,” she said, and Matt’s grin lit up his face.

“So it was Shiro.” Her brows furrowed, and he shook her head. “Hunk wouldn’t tell me anything—he said it was better just to ask you, and he was right. Though he said you might have something going on with Lance, too.”

“It’s a…sometimes thing,” she said, thinking back to the last time they’d fucked, the only time since Keith had left. She’d been on her way to bed, but saw him staring out the enormous window of the lounge, and when he turned to her with the raw wound evident in his eyes…well, she’d comforted him in the language they shared, of passion and vulnerable trust in each other and the hope they placed in the future, the hope that Keith would return to them unharmed, whole.

So much of their lives hinged on hope.

But they’d parted that night, after she’d sung him to sleep, and she returned to Shiro, who understood as soon as she’d told him who she’d been with. He’d probably seen it in her eyes, as he kissed her, letting her fall asleep in his arms, even though he’d still had work to do.

Matt met her eyes. “Well, let’s start small…and get to know each other, first. Sound fair?”

“More than,” she said, and sat up, fixing her hair back into her usual bun. She glanced back to see his gaze still settled on her, and before she could blink or think it through she kissed him, a quick peck, like she hadn’t done in years—not since she was a little girl, just learning how her body worked. He laughed, and so did she; they blushed, they straightened their clothes.

He walked her to the door.

“I’m glad, about you and Shiro,” he said, catching her entirely off-guard. She turned, and found herself almost in his arms, the proximity still new, awkward. She took a deep breath and smelled his musk and there, now, after the moment had long passed, she felt that ember of desire glow somewhere within. He took a step to allow her the room, and she felt caught between his gravity and the free, weightless space behind her.

“You…are?”

He shrugged as he started to unlock the door. “I just bet you’re good for him, is all.”

The door whooshed open behind her and she stumbled out, her exit from his room a blur. Her, good for Shiro? Weren’t they good for each other, equal partners in a beneficial relationship?

Not relationship. Arrangement.

One that suited them both.

One that drew them to the same bed, night after night, sex or no.

One that drew her away from an encounter from a new lover, wrong though the moment had been.

One that…she hadn’t realized was quite so important to her.

 

When she arrived to Shiro’s room that night, she hadn’t said anything; just dropped her shorts and climbed into bed with him, keeping his words in with her mouth, letting him loosen her, explore her, send her into shivering pleasure before she rode him to his.

It was the closest she could get to confessing her love, now.

Before their war ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3!! A sex story without sex?! What?! But something that I hope is coming through in All Cats 1 and 1.5 is the idea of consent, and enthusiastic consent. Find yourself a lover/lovers who are cool and understanding if you want sex and then don't. Having an honest, open flow of communication is key!
> 
> But never fear, friends: There WILL be more sex in this fic. Stay tuned!


	4. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boy gets in over his head. Again.

* * *

 

He hadn’t meant it to happen this way.

He wasn’t sure he’d meant it to happen at all, but.

  
Sometimes, his passion surged through him, coursing through his veins, beating a tattoo in his heart and flooding his brain with opaque emotion so that he was swimming, moving with only his nerves to guide him. And when he could breathe again, see clear his world for what it had become, he felt more like a drowning man finding succor on a desert island than someone who had any real, impartial clarity.

  
Hell, leave impartial clarity to Keith; it was never gonna be Lance’s thing.

  
But, that being said…he would have liked to reclaim even a little bit of his agency, even though he’d been complicit; an active, consenting participant. He just wished he’d been able to savor it all, able to parse it with his mind even as his fingers and lips had acted.

  
By the time he’d been able to come up from the depths for that first cool sip of air, they were both naked.

  
The night, previous to this rockslide of hormonal impulses, had been normal enough. Drills with the Lions in the morning, R&D or training in the afternoon—for Lance, it was almost always the latter—then dinner with as many of their number could make it. Shiro hadn’t been there for a while, and Allura mentioned that he’d been working hard with their growing coalition to develop battle strategies and discover new ways to weaken the Galra hegemony. Lance understood, they all did. They knew he trusted them to manage themselves, but…it wasn’t them that required supervision. Well, except Pidge. Even Lance knew she forgot to sleep sometimes.

  
Something had made him look to Matt as Allura told them Shiro was chest-deep in historic records about the war 10,000 years ago, sorting through the sources she’d deemed most accurate, though, she went on, all had been embellished or falsified, her history written and rewritten by bystanders, spectators, enthusiasts, entertainers. Matt had smiled, nodded; followed the conversation around the table as Pidge and Hunk chimed in.

  
He’d smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes.

  
And as the conversation turned to their training two days ago, when they’d worked on awakening the special powers of their Lions, which had ended with Lance very neatly and quite accidentally setting the Green Lion’s vines aflame, the smile slipped from Matt’s face, which had tilted down to his plate.

  
Lance could recognize the signs of loneliness anywhere.

  
He’d certainly made his own study of it on this voyage across the stars, a quadrillion miles from home and getting further by the tick.

  
So he’d invited Matt back to his room to fire up Killbot, thanking his stars that it was one of the earlier RPGs to have multiplayer support. Matt hadn’t been as excited as Pidge, but as they settled down in front of the makeshift rig Lance had set up in his room, Matt confessed that, as the older brother, the nostalgia wasn’t quite the same. He’d loved the game, sure, but Pidge had watched him for hours, begging to play. He’d finally relented, planning to leave her controller unplugged and her character on auto, but she’d figured it out instantly. It was one of the few times they’d ever really fought, tears and screams and all, but when he’d plugged it in and asked her to play, she’d been a savant.

  
He’d never tried to exclude her again.

  
Lance, thinking back on his own siblings, understood perfectly.

  
They’d talked about their families for a while after that, about Earth; everything they missed, the things they dreamed about when, if, they let their thoughts drift back to their lives before. Lance never wanted to talk about these things, never wanted to bring the mood down, to acknowledge things that seemed so small in the face of everything he was fighting for now, but were still so important to him. Somehow, talking with a near-stranger as they both kept their eyes on the retro pixels and let their words filter through the 8-bit soundtrack, interrupting each other with called directions and interjected profanity; somehow, that way, he could keep it together. He could let his loss run its course, could drain his dammed reservoir until it no longer threatened to overflow.

  
But then…had it been a glance, a friendly shove? A joke, when they’d both laughed just too hard? The faint smell of sweat, the tang of men who’d been in close proximity? Or was it something admitted, a secret, deep vulnerability exposed for a moment too long, a wounded heart passed between them?

  
Lance only knew that there had been a beat, then a kiss. And another. Hands and lips, exploring, roaming, pulling and tugging and relieving each other of the burden of clothes until there, they were naked and entangled and giving each other a moment of pause before…

  
“So, what’s next?” Matt whispered, leaning down into Lance’s ear, and he laughed even as the shiver passed down his spine.

  
“You tell me, man,” Lance said, hips pressing up to meet Matt’s hand as it stroked in, around his thighs. “Anything you’ve been missing? Or did you get busy with some of the rebels?”

  
“Mm,” Matt said, the noncommittal noise somehow more frustrating to Lance than a straight answer would’ve been. Even as he tilted his chin, he wondered why he was so invested in knowing.

  
Keith would’ve said it was because he was always invested.

  
Lance frowned and kissed Keith out of his mind, sighing through pressed lips as Matt took him in his hand. His strokes were light, too slow, and though Lance rubbed against him, dick throbbing, he didn’t tighten it.

  
He pulled away to give Matt a piece of his mind, but saw the other man was still in thought. Did he know the effect he was having on Lance, sinking him into the abyss of sensation while keeping the pleasure of release so far out of reach?

  
A small smile told him he did.

  
“I think…I know what I’d like to start with,” Matt said, as he traced his knuckles up the underside of Lance’s cock, watching appreciatively as Lance couldn’t help but squirm, “but I want to know what you prefer.”

  
“Pre…fer? Oh, ah, mm…,” he said, distracted by the sensations below. His brain went into overdrive just to work long enough to find an answer. “I never…thought about it, really. Both ways are pretty…ahh!…good.”

  
Matt kissed him then, tightening his hand finger by finger, the pressure that much more satisfying after being denied for so long.

  
“Then if it’s all right with you, I’d like to do you first, then have you fuck me ‘til I come.”

  
Lance jerked at the straightforward plan, feeling his cheeks flush. He’d thought Keith was direct, but Keith spoke with actions first, and confirmed with his words. He wasn’t much of a planner…neither of them were.

  
But Lance could follow a set course of action, especially one that made him hard just thinking about the final payoff.

  
“Sounds good to me,” he said, and pressed into Matt’s lips, a kiss to seal their course of action.

  
His reprieve was over. Matt’s lips wound their way down Lance’s chest as Lance was pulled back under, his rational mind blurring into the distance as he got his cock sucked, wet top to bottom. The head bumped into the back of Matt’s throat as he bobbed, sending Lance arching, moaning back into the floor, grasping for anything to hold and finding no purchase anywhere. The world seemed determined to see him slip, slide into ecstatic oblivion.

  
But it ended, with a pop of lips as they slid off him, and he stared down into Matt’s warm, brown eyes.

  
“Where are your condoms?”

  
“They’re…in a wooden box in the shelves…by my pillow.” Matt got up to look, and Lance found himself staring up at his bare ass, his thin, hairy legs. He could only catch a glimpse of Matt’s dick between his legs, erect as it was. “There’s lube in there, too.”

  
“Yup, I see it,” he said, and took the whole box down with him, the springs of Lance’s bed squeaking as Matt levered himself off it. It was a new view, staring up at someone from the ground; dizzying, if he looked up too long. On instinct, Lance turned to catch Matt’s leg, kissing him at the ankle. Matt wobbled at the pull, and knelt with grace, his cock coming to rest by Lance’s cheek. Lance pulled it into his mouth, feeling out the size with his tongue, his lips, relishing Matt’s aspirated sighs as Lance found the sweet spots. A small part of him felt nervous around Matt’s experience, but he figured enthusiasm could bridge the gap between skill and pleasure.

  
“R-right there,” Matt uttered, and Lance licked it once, twice; light, teasing flicks, before opening his tongue to lap with the broad surface. Matt’s growl held hints of a chuckle, but the fingers that came to rest in Lance’s hair were definitely meant as a deterrent to that kind of behavior in the future.

  
Lance found his own cock with his free hand as he worked on Matt, giving himself encouraging strokes; for a moment, imagining his hand wasn’t his own, pretending there was someone else down there, waiting to see his reaction, planning to do just enough to drive him insane.

  
Someone who, in good humor, might want to punish him just a little for enjoying this encounter as much as he was.

  
“That’s enough for now,” Matt said, sliding out of Lance’s range. He slid on a condom he had at the ready before grabbing the lube and crawling over Lance to reposition himself between Lance’s legs. “This okay? Or would you rather be on your stomach?”

  
“Either way, dude—whatever you want.”

  
Matt met his eyes as he slathered lube over himself, then leaned down over him, planting a kiss on Lance’s sternum.

  
“I appreciate that you want to please me,” he said, flashing his gaze to meet Lance’s, the intensity within his rich brown eyes coupled with the vibrations of his low tone against Lance’s skin giving him sensations he was entirely unequipped to process, “but what will make me happiest is to have you comfortable.”

  
Matt moved his fingers to open Lance, slipping them in one after another, working them through, but not pushing, not furthering the interaction.

  
He seemed to be waiting.

  
“O-oh, like…this, then.”

  
“Sounds good,” Matt said, planting one last kiss, then rocking back so he could position himself well. “Are you ready?”

  
“Yes,” Lance said, and Matt pushed in, slow strokes letting him in further each time. There was no fuss, no confusion, and even with the condom it was all so smooth. Easy.

  
He was being fucked, and it felt so goddamn good.

  
He lost track of time, space, his place in the universe; the sensation he’d come to love, though he’d never rid himself of the small voice in the back of his mind as his partner entered, asking himself how he got here, how he’d become someone who liked to be entered, penetrated. The rest of him drowned it out, knowing, now, there was no shame in it, only pleasure.  
He wondered if someday that voice would fade away altogether.

  
Matt leaned back, grabbing Lance’s hips and holding him as he thrust. Lance peeked up, expecting to find Matt staring down at him, his gaze intense, a small smile on his face. But Matt’s attention was elsewhere, his eyes closed shut, lip bit in concentration.

  
A throb; a knot in Lance’s heart, constricting, even as he was being fucked to perfection. Matt knew a thing about technique, pacing, plot.

  
But he wasn’t…looking. He didn’t see Lance.

  
A few months ago…well, a few months ago, none of this would have ever happened, except maybe a good-natured handjob in the shower. The more recent Lance, who had learned lessons about his sexuality, well, he would have checked out, too. With Keith and Allura, he’d assumed it was his fault, when he’d been unable to find the connection with them that worked for all parties. He’d blamed himself, not understanding love language and sex language and any sort of communication whatsoever.  
But now…

  
There were two people in this act, this moment, and though Matt had been so good—hell, he was good, the sex god of the Garrison, the man whose legend would probably reign eternal—something was missing. And where Lance might have run away before, assuming it was his fault his partner wasn’t there…

  
This time, he reached out a hand.

  
Matt’s eyes flew open at the palm on his cheek, and the smile returned to his face as his eyes met Lance’s. Lance stroked down Matt’s slick neck, shoulder, arm, tugging to draw him down for a kiss, anchoring him to the present. And Matt responded, showering Lance with kisses, whispering naughty nothings in his ear, his focus returned.

  
Had it been that easy all along?

  
Matt’s hand found its way back to Lance’s cock, and just his touch was enough to take Lance to the brink.

  
“Matt…wait, I’m about to…”

  
“It’s okay, me too.” Matt kissed down Lance’s throat and pumped his hand in time with his hips; and Lance’s climax crashed into him, taking him for everything he was worth. By the time he’d shuddered to stillness and blinked the stars away, Matt had pulled out and gone to grab tissues from the bathroom. Lance could’ve told him there were closer ones by the bed, but he wasn’t sure if he could form words at all, after that. He took the tissues from Matt and mopped up his stomach, the awkwardness creeping in only now, the dulcet tones of Killbot still beep-booping through the background, controllers abandoned haphazard on the floor, their clothes even further afield.

  
“Do…,” Lance finally croaked out, clearing his throat as he pushed himself up. He paused to let his head spin once, twice—he really needed to be drinking more water—and tried again. “Do you wanna use my shower?”

  
“Ready to go again?”

  
“I will be,” Lance bantered back, and Matt chuckled as he was hunting for his clothes. “We still haven’t completed your agenda.”

  
“The agenda changed,” Matt said, with a shrug. “Sometimes it does, and I certainly have no complaints. Unless you…?”

  
“Nah, that was…incredible. I’ll…I’ll get you back next time? We should ask Allura, too. I know she was interested.”

  
Matt pulled his boxers up, one leg already in his pants. “I’m not so sure.”

  
“She beat me to it?” Lance said, a joking tone, but something stung there. Allura was always light-years ahead of him, so self-assured. But, wait. “What…happened?”

  
“I think she’s more into her thing with Shiro than she realizes.”

  
“Her thing with…Shiro?”

  
Lance stood, feeling that response kick in, the flight to somewhere, anywhere safe. Away.

  
Matt froze, his shirt halfway up his arms. “You didn’t know?”

  
“I…I mean, I knew that, once, but…I guess I thought it was more casual,” Lance said, fumbling at the end. He turned to Matt and forced a smile. “Well, just let me know about…y’know.”

  
“I…will,” Matt said, taking a step toward the door, then back, kissing Lance on the cheek. “Let me know if you ever wanna talk, too. I’d like that.”

  
“Y-yeah, sure. You know how to get back?” Matt rolled his eyes and said a quick good-bye as he left, and Lance stood back as the door opened and closed around the other man, in case another paladin happened to be nearby.

  
Then he stumbled to his shower, disappearing in the steam and his thoughts. He missed Keith, of course; the constant throb in his breast, the thread that connected them even as they were galaxies apart, risking death too far away to help if something should…happen.

  
He hadn’t been prepared to miss Allura, too.

  
Allura and Shiro…of course, how could he have missed it? If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his grief, he might have seen it for what it was. Their long meetings, the occasional hand on the shoulder, the increased speed of their discussions as they made the decisions that would not only affect the people in the Castle, but in the universe. They were probably good for each other, probably understood each other in a way Lance couldn’t; Lance, whose greatest personal responsibility in his life before Voltron had probably been the Garrison simulations he’d repeatedly failed. Shiro was a great leader, and he’d…fuck, he’d been more relaxed lately, and Lance had chalked it up to the yoga and whatever new thing Coran and the Olkari had cooked up to put in their tea. Hell, he’d even joked about it the other morning. If Shiro was healing, so much the better, but…

  
But it sounded like Allura had fallen in love, and that…

  
Lance slapped the wall, the metallic wall searing his hand with his own force. He wasn’t sad, wasn’t angry, just blindsided.

  
Because, once again, he was being left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, sorry for the late update... I’m on a long-awaited trip this week, and had either no time or internet connection to post yesterday. But here we are!
> 
> I just wanted to say again how much I appreciate everyone who takes the time to leave kudos and/or review. It’s helping boost my confidence in my work, which adds to my drive to finish my novel. I’m grateful to have such kind, eloquent readers, and I hope you continue to enjoy this little novella!
> 
> Also, Lance... maybe one day you’ll learn...


	5. The Gorgeous Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man, a talk, and a good cuppa.

* * *

 

He found the new one, Holt 1, tucked behind a pillar in the hangar. He came down here sometimes to see the Lions in their majesty, to remember that everything Alfor had worked so hard to build still had purpose, meaning. That every sacrifice, often overshadowed by explosive victory, hadn’t gone unrecognized. These Lions stood for so much more than Alfor could have ever imagined…but knowing Alfor, maybe not. He’d always been so perceptive, been able to identify and bring out the best in whatever he saw. Like these Lions, chiseled from extra-dimensional rock.

Like the general in Allura, the daughter he’d brought up to be a diplomat in times of peace, not expecting times of intergalactic war.

Like the potential in Coran himself, plucking him, a minor cousin of a branch family, to be in the King’s council, his inner circle. They’d been friends as young boys, and Coran had never expected more—certainly no rise to prominence, and moreover, never a deep personal connection. Alteans didn’t have the same concept of “soulmates” that the humans did, but after Number 5 told him what the phrase meant, he’d thought it felt right.

Now, what he had left of his soulmate were his greatest creations: Allura, and the Lions.

And what pride he felt in them all.

When he had a spare moment, he would stroll the halls, greeting and chatting with each Lion in turn, whether or not they could hear him. He honored the spirits within them, whatever spark of life they carried, and it was his way of paying them respect. He thought of them, too, as his wards; all of the Paladins, even Shiro, the Champion with the too-beautiful biceps. Coran was the one who would patch them up when they returned, who would make sure they always had somewhere _to_ return.

But usually the halls were empty after the Lions came back from training, unless Number Five was working on one of her personal projects by Green…which was why he’d been so shocked to hear the shuffling, huffing. He’d dived behind the wall and put a hand to his communicator, to radio for help, but…nothing moved, changed. Just a sound that, upon further reflection of the whuffling and sniffing, he recognized as…

…crying.

He straightened his coat, pulling his collar forward as he centered himself, and turned to find the source in a mass of tan-and-olive cloak, pressed under a panel. Coran didn’t know how long Holt 1…oh, what was his Earth name, Mart? No, Matt, the two hard t’s impossible to forget…how long Matt had been there, but he looked rough, from the little of him Coran could see. He’d curled up as best he could, slow sobs sending waves of motion down the cloak he’d grasped tight around his face.

No part of this was good.

He scuffed his boot against the smooth floor, letting the squeak alert Holt 1 to his presence. The pile of cloaks froze, then opened just enough for a golden-brown eye to peek out.

“C…Coran,” he said, and dropped his cloaks, his shoulders.

Coran knelt.

“Is it something in particular, or all of it?” He asked, his voice low. He’d had it be both, on days—they all had. He knew the paladins yearned for home, no matter how committed to the cause. He and Allura yearned for Altea the same way, a planet and people taken from them forever, divided by life and death and time. Anyone else they’d known was long-since dead, had mourned them too, probably. Considered them among the lost.

He’d spent enough of his own days curled up, crying until he couldn’t breathe. The littlest things could trigger it. Sometimes it was Allura’s mannerisms that she’d picked up from Alfor, especially that wry smile that was an exact copy, reproduced on lips she’d gotten from him. The day he’d had to search for the weblum instruction tapes had been the hardest—he’d seen the titles of all the videos, the names alone bringing alive the memories in his mind, to times when he and Alfor and the rest had been explorers, diplomats, inventors. When they’d brought the best of what Altea had to offer to the world, and in returned received such gifts, of knowledge and kindness and trust, cooperation and courage, love.

All reduced to tapes.

From what he knew of this Holt, he’d been taken with Shiro, held at the mercy of the Galra until the rebels had freed him, and Number 5 had found him. He’d likely been through more than he’d ever tell her, unless they were an especially sharing family. Coran knew there were things Allura kept from him, and though she was an adult and was allowed her privacy, he wished she’d lean on him more for support. But it was hardest to lean on those you loved the most, hard to have them worry for you when there was nothing to be done.

Wasn’t it why he always smiled?

Matt rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, though it did little to brighten his appearance. Gaunt cheeks had hidden the emotional pain from them all, well enough that even Coran hadn’t worried about him—after all, wasn’t he in a better place, surrounded by those who loved him? But he should have been more aware from the start. He’d overseen the paladins as they transitioned from uncoordinated neophytes to journeyed cosmonauts, but this one…what support had he been given? The rebels had likely done their best, but they were stretched so thin, able to give only the care needed to get their members back on the front.

Maybe Matt hadn’t received…anything.

“It…oh, hold on,” Matt croaked, coughing to catch his breath, ducking his head to hide the flush in his cheeks. Coran wished he had something to offer, a tissue or hot beverage or blanket, but he had nothing to him, prepared only to take a walk alone. Matt wiped his palms across his face again and sighed. “I never expected to be here.”

“Then you are in fine company,” Coran said, and offered a hand. “Why don’t I fix you a hot cup of tea and we can talk it over?”

Matt choked out a laugh and took Coran’s hand. “Alteans have tea?”

“No, but Hunk introduced us to it. Said it calmed Keith down, and that I might like it.” He shrugged. “It may be an acquired taste, but I’m working on it.”

“Keith is…the one I haven’t met yet, right? He’s with the Blades.”

“Right. Bit of a hothead, that one. He and Lance were at it like cats and dogs there, until the end.”

“The end?”

“Oh, they found a more productive way to work out their differences,” he said. Lance had told Coran a little about it, when he’d taken Lance out on Olkarion, to brighten his spirits. Shiro had hinted that Lance might need the kind of diversion that Coran sought on the home planet, so he’d taken him, introduced him to a few women who might be Lance’s speed. That Lance had taken lovers of other genders on later visits hadn’t escaped Coran’s notice, and one night, on the ride back, Lance had opened up about his interlude with Keith. Coran had listened, offered comfort and advice, where he could. But nothing he said could bring Keith back, and they both knew it.

So they’d gone on smiling.

“I…see,” Holt 1 said, and followed Coran back to his room, in the Altean wing. Coran offered Matt the plush armchair he loved, broken in just the right amount so it was devastatingly comfortable. Matt sank into it with a sigh as Coran went to fix the tea.

When he brought it out, he was worried that Matt had fallen asleep, so relaxed was he in the chair. But he blinked his eyes open, warmth in there that had been missing, before. Coran set his guest’s tea on the small table next to the chair, but stopped when he felt Matt’s fingers meet his on the handle.

“Thanks,” Matt said.

“I’ve always thought there’s nothing a warm drink can’t cure,” Coran said, settling in the chair facing his guest. “Wishful thinking, I know. But even for a moment, it’s nice to pretend.”

“Yeah, it is.” Matt held the cup to his face, letting the steam waft over it, before cupping it with his other hand. “Would you…listen, just for a moment?”

“Of course.”

And the older Holt started talking, softly at first, about his family: his father, who’d encouraged his children to study and explore; his mother, stern but caring, keeping her family together with habits and routine; his sister, born too far apart to be a close companion but somehow becoming one anyway, his shadow, his star.

How going on the Kerberos mission with his two heroes had meant everything.

The abduction, the separation.

The betrayal, by Shiro; the salvation couched within.

How he was carted from prison to prison, alone, not knowing what his future held.

How he was saved by the rebels, what they’d taught him.

Coran had gone to get more tea as Matt told him of the people he’d met, the bonds he’d forged in sorties underground and dogfights in space.

About the moment they’d decided it was better he was presumed dead than alive, and what it might mean if his family tried to find him and didn’t recognize the code for what it was.

What it meant when Pidge _did_.

“She found me, Coran. She came across the galaxies to find me…she should have still been at home. In school!”

“She’s incredible, that Number 5. She never lost sight of her mission to find you or your father, not once.”

“I know. And…I know that everyone’s gone through so many experiences of their own, but…,” Matt took a deep, ragged breath, scrunching up his nose to stem the tears that were already threatening to spill, “I needed to talk to someone, and Shiro’s been so…busy.”

The tears fell at his admission, his breath hitching, hands shaking so that Coran knelt in the space between them, gingerly rescuing the mug from Matt’s hands before it spilled and burned him. He set it out of the way and gripped Matt’s fingers in his, and as he tried to stand and Matt tried to lean in, they both ended up on the floor, Matt in Coran’s arms, crying it all, all out.

Coran’s chest burned. Matt’s tears flowed hot, soaking Coran’s collar to the skin, his fingers grasping, searching. Trying to catch hold of anything steadying, to feel Coran anchor him to the ground. If there was anything he could do, he would, for any of them. But this was a wound that only time could heal.

No…

Matt had given the answer himself.

“I think,” Coran whispered, loud enough that Matt could hear him over the wracking sobs, “you need to have a nice long chat with Shiro.”

“B-buh,” Matt started, but all he could form were consonants, pre-syllables.

“Shiro is a great leader, but even the greatest can be blind where they place the most trust.” Coran held Matt to him. “He knows what you’ve been through, the most of all of us. But he sees you smile, and forgets how hard it was, when they all first arrived.”

Matt took a deep breath, and Coran did too, realizing the ragged breathing wasn’t coming from the other man alone. “Between us, I don’t think Shiro has ever really…acknowledged what happened to him. Processed it.”

“It’s like him to just…move on.” Matt said, and looked around helplessly. “D…do you have tissues?”

“Let me get them for you,” Coran said, but felt a hand at his hip, those red-rimmed eyes desperate.

“I’d rather you…stayed,” Matt said, then released his grip a little, “unless…”

“Of course,” Coran said, resettling. He wrapped his arms around Matt, keeping them there.

Until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He appeared!! I know at least a few of you were wondering if he might get a say this time around, and indeed, here he did. Hope you liked it! And if this wasn't enough feels for you, hang on until next week! ;)


	6. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call for reassurance.

* * *

 

He was just happy the call came when he was in the hold alone.

When he’d given Lance the number, he’d told him to use it only for emergencies, in case the Blades didn’t take kindly to Keith having his own communicator. They’d be fools to think he wouldn’t have his own way to talk with the paladins, but he wanted to avoid antagonizing his hosts as much as possible. He wasn’t sure he’d ever become a full, trusted member, but he didn’t want to be cast out on an asteroid for some arbitrary breach of the protocol he was still desperately trying to learn. He’d given the number to Shiro, too, but he was almost sure Shiro would never call.

He was surprised it had taken Lance this long.

Keith did a quick scan of the other bunks, making sure he was truly alone before switching on the receiver.

“What is it?”

“I miss you.”

Keith sighed to hide the way his heart fluttered, just a little. “You called me just to say that?”

“I…,” Lance’s silence spoke the volumes he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Hiding his emotions deep until the end.

But what could they do, like this?

“Y-yeah, I guess I did.”

“Lance.”

“Everyone’s fine, Pidge says hi, I mean, everyone does…”

“I miss you too.”

“You…do?”

“Of course,” Keith said, stifling a laugh at the total innocence in Lance’s question. He supposed he should consider himself lucky that the boy’s skull was so thick. It’d keep him safe. “And you’d better be ready for our…reunion…when I get back.”

A pause.

“Thanks, Keith.”

“Anytime…though I did say this was for emergencies.”

“You did.” Another pause. “Take care of yourself.”

“Right back atcha.”

A long pause.

“Hang up, Lance.”

“Y-yeah. Later.”

Click.

“Later,” Keith said, rolling onto his back.

And, not for the first time, wondering if what he’d given up was all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, I know. But it's just here to whet your appetite for next week... the culmination of all that has come before... ;)
> 
> Thanks, as always, for the subscriptions and kudos!!


	7. Matt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hard conversation, a soft healing.

* * *

 

Matt stood in front of Shiro’s door, heart in his throat. 

He hadn’t thought he was a mess. He’d thought he’d had it all together.

Last night had proven him totally, utterly wrong.

Coran had been able to pick up the pieces, shown him what he’d needed to do. How to mend the wall that Lance had unwittingly torn down when he’d given Matt a taste of the easy camaraderie he used to enjoy. A life he’d lived without a second thought, carefree. 

A life divided from who he was today. 

When Pidge had found him on that remote base…it was everything he’d dreamed, and nothing he dared hope. She’d crossed the galaxy in a Lion made from inter-dimensional space dust…and that was perhaps the least risky thing she’d done in her quest to find him and their father. And to come back and find Shiro, too; Shiro, who’d taught him everything that had kept him alive, who’d learned a thing or two from Matt in return. Who’d been friend and leader and one-time lover, an afternoon Matt had relished more than he’d ever let on. Matt knew where Shiro stood on that front, then. Now.

But more than sex, he’d needed Shiro’s guidance, the bond they shared. The understanding of horrors in the past that still, even now, had some bearing on their futures. Horrors that had altered them, physically and mentally. But Shiro was preoccupied, Shiro was fine. Shiro didn’t need Matt like Matt so desperately needed Shiro. Shiro wasn’t broken, could never break. It was just that Matt was weak.

It had never occurred to Matt that Shiro hadn’t confronted those things in himself.

He knocked, a sharp rap on the door. Soft padding thumps on the other side, then it whirred open; Shiro, in the flesh. In…sweatpants, of all things, and a shirt that, as always, looked unfairly good as it clung to Shiro’s muscles.

“Matt,” he said, only a hint of surprise in his eyes. A small smile, the restrained familiarity. Some things would never change.

“Come in.”

“Thanks,” Matt said, taking a look around Shiro’s quarters. Where Coran’s had been filled with knick-knacks and relics that spoke of a well-traveled man, Shiro’s room was…comfortable. Bigger than Lance’s had been, furnished with only a handful of items that looked well-used. There was nothing that didn’t serve a purpose, but everything was not only useful, but had a hint of warmth, of being well-worn because people enjoyed their use. A desk, organized books and tablets atop it; a chair with a lush-looking blanket draped across. A bed, made to military precision, with two pillows. 

Matt turned back to Shiro, who gestured him to the chair. Matt shook his head. “I’d rather stand, if it’s all right.”

“Of course. Everything okay?” Shiro leaned back against the door, and Matt squared his shoulders, in some ways as nervous as the day they were first introduced. He’d been just accepted to the Garrison, and his dad brought Shiro, the Shiro, over to meet him. Said he might be a good mentor. He remembered looking up for what felt like ages, though he hadn’t been short—it was just that there was so much of Shiro, his presence, the way he could command a room. 

Now they stood nearly square, but Shiro still had that power, the seemingly complete control.

But…

“We never…talked,” Matt started, finding his voice through his cottoned mouth, his dry lips aching. “About what happened after Kerberos.”

Shiro opened and closed his mouth, crossing his arms as he worked over what Matt meant. Shiro had heard the broad strokes, about Matt’s journey, what he’d done in the time since they separated. He was nothing if not perceptive. 

“We…can, if you like,” Shiro said, meeting Matt’s eyes, “though I don’t know how much I have to contribute, with my memory like it is.”

“That’s not important,” Matt started, taking an involuntary step forward as his emotions carried him through. “I mean, it is, but…Shiro, weren’t you terrified? Or was that just…me.”

Shiro stepped to him as Matt took a deep, rattling breath in; an echo from the night before. Shiro’s scent was in his nose before his hands were on Matt’s biceps, holding him steady. He smelled alien, spiced, but still so like Shiro. Those arms…no, the one arm. Matt’s gaze slid to the cold metal.

Shiro’s followed. He tightened his grip, just for a moment; reflex. He pulled back, gazing down into Matt’s face, his expression unreadable. Matt looked anywhere else, trying to stifle the emotion that was threatening to bubble up again. 

But Shiro pulled him in to a deep embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, gruff voice ruffling the hair around Matt’s ear. “I guess I took your lessons to heart.”

“Oh, that’s healthy,” Matt said, his laugh rough, crooked. But he wrapped his arms around Shiro, taking comfort in his solid bulk, the warmth of another human who truly cared for him.

And not in a sisterly way.

Shiro laughed, too. “I’m sorry. I should have offered to talk about it with you when you first got here.” He leaned back, looking down into Matt’s eyes. Damn. It was unfair for one man to look so, so good. “And I…have tried to keep busy, so…”

“So you don’t think about it,” Matt said, and Shiro bobbed his head to the side, an embarrassed acknowledgment. 

“I’m sorry. We can talk about it now, if—” Shiro said, leaning out of the embrace to take a seat, but Matt grasped his shirt, meeting his eyes with a need he hadn’t know he’d had.

“Shiro…if…if it’s…help me turn off my brain,” Matt stammered, and Shiro’s grip twitched again, his eyes stern, searching.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“No. Yes. I mean, of course it is…and then we can talk, after. As long as…,” Matt took a deep breath, steeling himself to meet whatever was in Shiro’s eyes. “As long as that’s all right with you.”

Shiro took Matt in his arms, cupping his head with his left hand, his human hand, and kissed him.

The kiss was warm, deep; strong without being overbearing, without needing to master. He was pressed into Shiro, a shadow against his outline, held safe, secure.

He pushed back.

“This…just feels like coercion,” he said, watching Shiro’s brows knit. He shook his head. “It’s not fair of me to come to you to fuck my fears away, after you’ve said you weren’t interested.”

“It’s not that I…,” Shiro said, sliding his hands to the sides of Matt’s face. “I care about you, as a friend. And though we can do more than that, we’ll never…be more than that.” He looked away. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” 

“As long as we’re still friends,” Matt whispered, voice cracking as he voiced the most deep-seated of his fears. His hands trembled, sweat into Shiro’s shirt, but all Shiro did was to cup his face, touching his forehead to Matt’s. 

“Always.”

And he kissed Matt, again; sweet, soft. Holding Matt in place, in time. Keeping him afloat, tethered.

And Matt set himself free.

He slid his hands up Shiro’s shirt, across those gorgeous muscles, down his thick waist. How had no one but Allura gotten to him…or had they tried, and failed? He wondered briefly how Lance would look in Matt’s place now, Shiro probing into his lips; but no, Shiro needed someone more sure, someone who would match him. Lance was too quick to roll over, to try to please; they’d be at a standoff, arguing the whole time about who would do what for whom first.

Hands at his collar; a click, and his cloak fell to the floor behind them. Matt slid his hands up and gathered the liquid-soft fabric of Shiro’s shirt as he went. Shiro paused to let Matt strip him, bringing his arms together as though about to dive, so Matt could slide his shirt over his head, down, letting it pool on the floor as Shiro returned his attention to Matt’s lips. He let his fingers trace Matt’s silhouette, feathering down his sides and up again, before pressing in, gripping the fabric, finding purchase. He tugged as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping in to meet Matt’s once, twice; the fabric of his shirt came free, and Matt undid the clasps at his throat as fast as his shaking fingers would let him. Soon his shirt had joined Shiro’s, and to Matt’s surprise, Shiro took a step back.

“Let me see,” Shiro said, and Matt let his hands fall to his sides, turning slowly, his scars on full display. Some had been pure accidents, cutting himself as he scrambled out of occupied territory, moved supplies, learned how to use the new weapons, ancient though the rebels might have thought them. Some were wounds received in combats, in real struggles for his life.

All of them were new, since Kerberos.

When he completed his circle, he met Shiro’s eyes, but found no trace of sadness or pity there. Resolve, yes. 

And smoldering hunger.

They stepped to each other, skin to skin, lips pressed together. Matt ran his hands up Shiro’s back, sliding his fingers over the shaved hair at Shiro’s nape. Shiro ran his hands down, mapping Matt’s new muscle with his hands, though Matt wondered how much Shiro could feel with his Galra arm. The metal was warmer than he would have expected; he’d have to ask Pidge if she’d studied it yet. 

But that arm dipped down to his ass, and all thoughts of his sister flew from his head. 

Shiro planted a kiss on Matt’s shoulder, then spoke, the cool air tickling where his lips had been. “You look good.”

Matt shivered, frozen though he was by Shiro, those words rippling through his veins. Before, ages and lifetimes before, it had been Matt doing the seducing, teaching. 

Now, things were different. Shiro had come into a fullness Matt couldn’tve imagined, back at the Garrison. Everyone knew Shiro was a good leader, but the training they’d endured didn’t hold the slightest candle to what either of them went through in a single day, here. And Shiro had been put in charge of the most dangerous weapon in the universe, with no warning, and little training. 

But Matt knew better than anyone it had all come at a cost, above and beyond what he sacrificed to stay a paladin. He let his fingers trace the grooves of Shiro’s scars, the raised tissue. There were so many, across his flesh, a written tally of what Shiro might rather forget.

Matt slid his left hand up and over Shiro’s shoulder, and down.

To where flesh met metal.

Shiro stiffened, but Matt held him close with his other arm. The seam was warm, but the tissue was hard, gnarled. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Only in the cold.”

Matt turned, kissing Shiro’s cheek until he lifted his head to meet Matt’s, taking his kisses. Kissing back, harder. Burying his hands in Matt’s pockets and pulling him close, so he could feel Shiro’s need.

The signal was clear: no more talking until after.

Matt sighed, happy to comply. 

Shiro maneuvered Matt and pushed him back, step after step, until he hit the bed. He kept his lips at Matt’s neck, each kiss more searing, pressing than the last, as his fingers undid Matt’s pants. Once they were loose enough Shiro tugged them down, just enough.

With a feral look, he took a step back and lowered down to take Matt in his mouth.

It was clear that in the time they’d spent apart, Shiro hadn’t gotten much practice at this, if he’d ever had any at all. He nearly choked himself taking too much in at first, his hand static at the middle. Sheepish, he took a breath and tried again, sliding his lips just over the head as he stroked up and around. His technique was rudimentary and timing nonexistent, but none of that mattered.

The sight of Shiro going down on him was fucking exquisite. 

Matt wouldn’t have minded the view for a while longer—hell, he’d be happy to give the man lessons with him as the example—but he saw Shiro start to shift his weight between his knees, his body unused to the posture, to everything. He tugged into Shiro’s hair to pull him back up, kissing him as his erection grazed Shiro’s pecs. 

Fuck.

“Do you have lube?”

“And condoms.”

“I figured that,” Matt said, scooting to the side to rid himself of his boots and pants as Shiro got what they’d need. He watched Shiro out of the side of his eye—had he possibly put on more muscle? And yet he moved so gracefully, more limber than himself, for sure. 

Shiro pushed his sweatpants down over his ass, letting them fall to his feet, and stepping out, one foot after the other. He ripped open a condom he’d pulled from the side of his bed and slid it down his cock, which Matt still appreciated, standing as straight and tall as Shiro himself. 

Matt held his hand out for lube and Shiro cocked his head, but when he wiggled his fingers Shiro understood. He squirted a small amount into Matt’s hand before doing the same for his own, and Matt got to work preparing himself for…Shiro.

So much had changed since that day, so long ago. 

Shiro capped the small bottle with a decisive pop, and lavished himself with it, firm strokes that stoked the embers that had settled deep in Matt’s belly, the anticipation of something that, in his mind, was long overdue. 

When Shiro met his gaze, the embers ignited into a full-blown flame. 

He moved between Matt’s legs, settling his left hand on Matt’s cock, his right just under, the lubed metal cool and smooth.

All the easier for sliding in.

Matt gasped at the first finger, arched his back at the second. Wondered how long it would take Shiro to get things going, and realized Shiro was waiting for a signal from him.

“Fuck me,” he begged.

Shiro did.

It was all Matt could do to grip Shiro’s biceps, letting Shiro fill him to the brim with those good, long strokes. No matter that Shiro was clueless with his mouth on a dick, he knew what to do with his hips, the way to make his partner forget their own damn name, much less whatever else was on their mind. 

Not to mention the way he kissed.

It wasn’t long before Matt was there, coming hard into Shiro’s hand as Shiro thrust and thrust and thrust, taking him with such decisive, long strokes; his forelock plastered to his head with sweat. Matt rode it out, though he was so sensitive the strokes were near agony. Even his bones shuddered as it wracked him.

Shiro kissed him, kissed away the excess energy as he found the rhythm to his own release, coming minutes later as he crushed his head into Matt’s shoulder. Matt whispered into Shiro’s ear; what, he wouldn’t be able to remember, but it soothed them both, dissipating the raw emotion that had translated into deep, wet sex.

When he could, Shiro lifted himself from Matt, slipping out as he did. He took a deep breath and kissed Matt, letting it linger, before straightening. “Do you want to clean up first?”

“Go ahead,” Matt said, his voice dry. Shiro dipped into the bathroom, but emerged a moment later, handing Matt a glass of water. He must have showed more than he meant to in his expression, as Shiro took one look and dipped back into the other room, shutting the door.

Matt took a deep drink and settled the glass in his hands, thumbing the smooth metal sides. Shiro was clamming up again, and his own thoughts were coming back. 

A whoosh, water. Shiro opened the door and stuck his head out. 

“C’mon, shower with me.”

They talked it out there, or started to; a conversation broached in steam and soap, in close quarters, where they busied themselves with action, where they always touched but their gazes rarely met. With each soaping and scrubbing, another layer washed away, down the drain. 

It wasn’t everything, but it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D :D :D 
> 
> I hadn’t planned on it going here, but when I was writing it, it made sense that this is where we ended up. All that’s left is the denouement! Thanks, as usual, for comments and kudos!


	8. Pidge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sibling bond, strengthened.

* * *

 

The last person Pidge expected to see in the laundry room was Shiro.

Usually at this hour he was holed up in his room reading reports, or in meetings with their Olkari hosts about coalition logistics. When Keith was here, he’d occasionally take a break for a quick spar, but now he’d just train with the rest of the paladins in the afternoon for a few hours before returning to his more pressing duties. And though she saw him in the mornings for yoga, their sessions had become quieter, subdued.

She missed him.

“Hey,” she said, shaking him out of his reverie. He’d been staring at the washing machine, arms crossed, oblivious to the world around him. He favored her with a quick grin.

“Pidge,” he said, by way of greeting.

“Can I throw this in? It just needs a quick turn.” She held out her hoodie, which had a splattering of pinkish-green across it, like a neon oil spill.

“What…is that?”

“Not sure, but I don’t think it’s harmful.”

“Don’t think? Or know?”

Her silence spoke volumes.

“I’ll put it in after—I don’t want it to shed any residue until after we know it’s safe.”

“Fair enough,” she said, and he took it from her, gripping the non-soaked parts. He sniffed at the glossy liquid, which smelled like lavender-scented wet dog.

“Are you sure this is even washable?”

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

She turned to go, but a soft “Hey, Pidge?” called her back. “I think…Matt could really use his sister right now.”

Pidge started to retort, her mouth always moving a little faster than her admittedly quick brain, but the _way_ he’d said it gave her pause. Even the way he stood, leaning against the wall, shoulders rounded just a bit, meeting her gaze. Something had happened between the two of them, clearly—and if Matt needed her, that was all she needed to know.

She gave Shiro one long, appraising look before she left to find Matt.

Who seemed to be waiting for her, poking around the workstation she’d set up in Green’s den.

“Hey,” he said, pushing around one of the tablets on her desk, not really meeting her eyes. He got like this sometimes, a melancholy that took over in the night. Usually he bounced back, but that was a different time—Pidge knew that feeling well enough. She kept her stride relaxed, regular as she walked to him.

“Everything okay?”

“Do they know you’re working on this?” He said, pushing the tablet again, his lips twitching up.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, and he shrugged. She sighed. “No.”

“You gonna tell ‘em?”

“Maybe once I get it to work.”

“Maybe?”

“Ugh, gimme that,” she said, snatching it out from under his hand. “What’s going on?”

Matt looked out at Green, and Pidge wondered if he felt the same stirring in his heart that Pidge did when she looked out on her, her flawless engineering combined with her proud stance, her soft face that hid mischievous eyes. He kept his gaze there for a long moment before turning back, training it on his sister.

“I just…wanted to see you.”

“Did Shiro break your heart?” She asked, before she could think it through. His eyes flew wide, mouth agape; and then he laughed, long and low. He’d been well out of puberty when he’d left for Kerberos, but his voice seemed deeper now, richer. He took a few steps toward her and wrapped her up in a hug, stifling the _meep_ of resistance she put up as she was smothered in his loose shirt. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

“If he did, would you fight him?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you’d lose.”

“Only if he sees me coming.”

At that, Matt laughed again, and squeezed her closer. She wrapped her arms around him, too—something that, for so long, she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to do again.

“He didn’t break my heart any more than usual. It’s just gotta be a crime to be that good-looking, though,” he sighed, and pushed her out, holding her by her shoulders. Another long glance at her, then Green behind her. “Dad would be proud of you, you know.”

“What?” She said, as tears welled up unfairly quick.

“Mom would be, too. As proud as I am.”

“You’re freaking me out.”

He snorted, and nodded, his shoulders drooping in, hands clasping in front of him. “Sorry. I’m not gonna off myself or anything. It’s just…it’s all been a lot, y’know? And I think…I think I’m gonna need some help sorting it out.”

“Matt…,” she said, and stepped up to him, nearly trapping his arms in hers as she flung them around him. He patted her shoulders, and leaned his cheek in her hair. “I’m always here for you, you know that, right?”

“Of course. You’re the one that found me.”

“And we’re gonna stick together, right?”

“You couldn’t peel us apart with a hundred Voltrons.”

“And…we’ll find Dad.”

“We will. Together.”

She took a step back, but kept his hands in hers, feeling the calluses, the rough skin. His nails were bitten down to the quick, and she rubbed her fingers across it lightly. How had she not seen it before? He’d been hurting, he’d needed her.

When it came down to it, they were all hurting. It was about time they started talking about it.

“Do you think…,” he started, and she glanced back up to see his smile returned, faint though it was, “…Hunk would make us milkshakes, if we asked?”

“He’d be delighted,” she said, giving his hands a squeeze. “C’mon, let’s go find him.”

She started to go, but he held her there for a second, not letting go of her hands. “He’s good to you?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Everyone?” She grimaced, and he shrugged. “Cut me some slack, I’m your brother. I’m allowed.”

“I wouldn’t be with him if he weren’t.”

“Good. Of course.” He let go, and they started walking, though she kept peering up at him, the question burning behind her lips. Finally, he rolled his eyes. “Yes?”

“Did…did anyone take you up on…well, you know.”

He elbowed her, and she shoved him right back, the ancient sibling ritual of annoyance. “A gentleman never tells.”

She sighed. “How many?”

“It depends on what you count as…”

Her bayard appeared in her hand, and he shrank back.

“Two! Just two.”

She put it away, and he winked.

“So far.”

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we've come(haha) to the end. Thanks so much for reading and being a part of the All Cats universe! I've had such a wonderful time writing it, and I've been floored by the lovely comments you all have left! I can't tell you how much they mean to me, and how it's strengthened my resolve to continue to write imperfect sex. 
> 
> While I have some plans for a volume 2, I can't promise anything right now (I work full time and have an original novel I'm trying to finish up!) but if I write a sequel volume, you know it'll be posted here. Thanks again for all the kudos and comments - they've brightened my day, and have given my confidence in my other written works (I had my first professional sale this year!) and I really appreciate the heart and dedication of all my readers.
> 
> May you have great sex, in whichever form (including none!) you choose. <3
> 
> (PS: Damn, I was so close on the Adam thing! If only I'd changed the gender of Shiro's first love...so close!!)


End file.
